What Romance Means to Me Now

I used to think that romantic love was supposed to be grand. Surprises, flowers, and long letters written by hand that show how much you miss them. Maybe it was because I grew up with 90s love songs and paperbacks that always had that one scene, you know, the one where everything fell into place and you replayed it in your head for years. I’ve desired that kind of love for a long time. I used to think that if love didn’t look like it did in the movies, it probably wasn’t love.

But now? This is what romance means to me.

It’s in the small, mundane things. How he puts my mug in the same place every morning because he knows it’s the only one I use. How he listens even when I talk about things he doesn’t understand, like my blog traffic, my latest art idea, or why I spent an hour editing a blog post. It’s how he laughs at my jokes that aren’t funny to anyone else. It’s how he doesn’t flinch when I break down for the fifth time in a week or when my anxiety keeps me up at night.

For me, the definition of romantic is all about being present for the one you love. It’s not loud or demanding attention. It’s in the effort to keep choosing someone even after the butterflies have settled into the routine of everyday life.

And to be honest, I had to unlearn a lot of what I thought I knew about love to understand this. I had to stop waiting for scenes in movies and start paying attention to what was happening in my life. I pay attention to things like the way our hands touch when we’re having a tense conversation. The way he carries the groceries when I’m too tired to talk. The way he makes time for the kids even when he’s tired from work.

I think about how our love has changed over the years. How it grew to hold grief, misunderstandings, financial challenges, and stress from being a parent. We came close to giving up at times. There were times when I wasn’t sure I still liked him. He probably didn’t like me at times too. But we stayed. We learned how to communicate to each other. We fought, made up, fell apart, and started over.

I think that’s romantic too. Romance in real life is not the absence of conflict, but the commitment to return. To make peace. To say you’re sorry even when it’s hard. To give each other room to grow, even when it’s hard.

Learning how to be your own safe place is another part of romance. It took me years to understand that I couldn’t keep hoping that someone else would save me from my loneliness, sadness, and exhaustion. I also had to learn how to take care of myself. I learned to listen to and parent my inner child by whispering kind things to myself when I felt ugly or unworthy.

Now, everyday romance is my husband standing by the kitchen’s door while I cook, just to be near me. It’s him asking if I’ve eaten. It’s the silence we share at night, when the house is finally quiet and we are just two people who have made it through another day together.

And sometimes, romance looks like him leaving me alone when I need time alone.

I used to feel guilty about the lack of passion in our love. That it didn’t make me swoon anymore. Now, though, I see the beauty in this gradual, steady burn and the way it grounds me.

I want to say this to anyone who thinks their relationship is too ordinary to be romantic: don’t underestimate your quiet love. The love that keeps trying. The love that stays despite knowing your worst. The love that continues to thrive in the mundane.

Romance is not always in the gestures. Sometimes, it’s in the staying.

Sometimes, it’s in the letting go.

And sometimes, it’s in the way we turn the ordinary into something sacred.

Romance

He doesn’t bring me roses—
because I said they’re useless.
So he brings silence
when the room inside me aches.

He doesn’t write letters—
he reads my face
and answers with
a gentle hand
on my lower back.

He doesn’t call me beautiful—
but he finds my mug,
pours the water,
watches the rice,
mops the floor.

No fireworks,
no symphonies—
just staying
that doesn’t beg to be seen.

And I,
still learning not to ask for more
than this
steady, worn-in miracle.

© 2025 Olivia JD

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